Finally they pitched
upon "Nearer, My God, to Thee," as the only song which they all knew.
Selina sang the "alto," very much off the key; Marcus intoned the bass,
scowling fiercely, his chin drawn into his collar. They sang in very
slow time. The song became a dirge, a lamentable, prolonged wail of
distress:
"Nee-rah, my Gahd, to Thee,
Nee-rah to Thee-ah."
At the end of the song, Uncle Oelbermann put on his hat without a word
of warning. Instantly there was a hush. The guests rose.
"Not going so soon, Uncle Oelbermann?" protested Trina, politely. He
only nodded. Marcus sprang forward to help him with his overcoat. Mr.
Sieppe came up and the two men shook hands.
Then Uncle Oelbermann delivered himself of an oracular phrase. No doubt
he had been meditating it during the supper. Addressing Mr. Sieppe, he
said:
"You have not lost a daughter, but have gained a son."
These were the only words he had spoken the entire evening. He departed;
the company was profoundly impressed.
About twenty minutes later, when Marcus Schouler was entertaining the
guests by eating almonds, shells and all, Mr. Sieppe started to his
feet, watch in hand.
"Haf-bast elevun," he shouted.
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